The Whistle Only Dogs Can Hear
by littlebirds
Summary: They just have to intersect in a loo. And from the catty incident before the Yule Ball, and several others after, Parvati is all too familiar with the particular strain of ugly restrooms can grow.


Her face close in to the mirror, Parvati thinks Lav doesn't see. In fact, her lip gloss wand is so steady, her focus so intense on re-applying the colour to its pre-lunch precision, Parvati is sure the whole of Hermione's great mess of split ends has disappeared into the stall before Lav even registers there's someone else in the loo.

"Right, that's you sorted." Parvati smiles into the mirror, tugs the back of Lavender's cloak as the stall lock clicks into place. "Let's fly. I want to hit Magical Menagerie before they close up."

And while her mum _had_ requested she bring home owl treats, more so, Parvati is keen to leave this restroom before Lavender and Hermione lay eyes on each other. It would be one thing to meet in the open air of the Alley, with room enough for big, fake smiles all around, and rain enough for everyone to have reason to move on. But, no. They just have to intersect in a loo. And from the catty incident before the Yule Ball, and several others after, Parvati is all too familiar with the particular strain of ugly restrooms can grow. The women's loo at the Leaky is a perfect petri dish: dark and too warm, with an agar of pheromones and the ever lingering trace of blood in the water.

Lav cocks a brow, purses her lips for the kiss off. Parvati glares, jerks her head toward the restroom door, but too late. The stall opens, and Hermione's eyes fall on Lavender's face in the mirror. Lavender whips around, presses a hand to her chest, and falls against the sink.

"Oh, Hermione! Merlin, you startled me!" Lavender says, the lilt of her voice as sticky pink as her lip gloss.

Hermione's mouth flattens, stretches "Lavender," she says, nods her head in greeting. "Parvati. Enjoying the holiday so far?" She steps between them, reaches around Lavender, twists both taps a one quarter turn.

"Oh, yeah. It's been really lovely, hasn't it, Pav? I mean, being away from school is a bit of a drag this year, but, well, absence, and fonder hearts, and all that." Lavender drops her voice, scandalized. "Honestly, some of the things Ron's written since we've been apart! You wouldn't believe... But just look at you, though! You've really put in the effort, today." Lavender gasps, "Meeting Cormac, are we? Well done on that one, by the way, Hermione. He is _quite_ the slab of man."

Hermione scrubs vigorously. Suds mound in the sink like froth on a malt.

" _We're_ just out for a spot of last minute shopping." Lavender settles against the sink, plants her hands so she's only _slightly_ more in the way. "I'm terrible to have left so much for the day before, but I managed to get the _most important_ bits done early. By the by, I've never seen this before." She pinches the shoulder seam of Hermione's jumper. "Is it new? I just _adore_ it. Don't you _adore_ this jumper, Pav? Stripey, just like that one of Ron's, yeah?" Lavender leans back, crosses her arms beneath her breasts. "I'm absolutely _mad_ for stripes, but I simply don't have the sort of boyish figure one needs to pull them off properly."

Hermione straightens, flicks water into the basin. "Right. Well, they do tend to highlight any... you know," she holds up a wet hand, slides it through the air in front of Lavender's chest, "unevenness."

Lavender laughs, a sound so sudden, shrill, and nasty Parvati half expects to find the words _'ha, ha, bitch'_ etched upon the mirror in lightning white.

"Oh, you! I'm sure _I don't know_ anything about _that_. It is frustrating, though, being thwarted at every turn by one's own bosom. I know! I know! I shouldn't whinge." Lavender smiles huge-bright. Her lashes bat a machine gun rhythm. "Especially when no one else is complaining, if you know what I mean." Rat-a-tat tat.

Hermione, cheeks flushed pear drop pink, appears to know exactly what Lavender means, and Parvati thinks this is enough for today. It's Christmas, tomorrow. Peace and good will, and all that.

"We should probably get back to your dad," Parvati says. But Lavender just uncrosses her arms, tilts her head to one side, watches Hermione arrange her cloak over her shoulders.

"Yeah. He's probably about to go spare, times being what they are. What about your chaperone, Hermione? Surely you're not puttering around out there, all alone."

"I'm of age," Hermione says, tugs her hair from her collar, "and perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Right. You _did_ have a birthday, didn't you?" Lavender's mouth melts into a pout. "Funny how it _always_ seems to slip _everyone's_ mind."

Parvati tugs Lavender's sleeve. Hermione takes a deep breath, smiles her best Prefect's smile.

"I assure you, all pertinent parties remembered."

"Good." Lavender nods, and, even to Parvati's trained ear, she actually sounds sincere. "Good. You know, we worry about you, Hermione, Pav and I. I mean, you're a doll to never complain, but boys, they can be _so_ careless." She plucks a loose hair from Hermione's cloak, looks in her eyes. "Girls like you- the 'whistle only dogs can hear'- you see, you all share the same fate. Eventually, your puppy-boys just... grow up and go deaf. Eventually, no matter how hard you trill, the poor beasts just aren't able to fight the urge to wander away. You can't stop them from sniffing around, or finding a few new fingers to lick."

Parvati looks between the two of them. A spot has erupted on Lavender's chin, the delayed consequence of letting Ron have at her face like a spaniel just after he'd demolished an entire plate of sausages. Hermione's skin is creamy and clear, perpetually unaccosted by inexpertly shaven jaws and grease-smeared lips.

"Let's go, Lav." Parvati lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Right. Bye, then." Lavender sing-songs. "Have a happy Christmas."

Parvati guides her to the door, pushes her through. Then, thinking of January, and the bed in their dorm where she spends most her nights, Parvati looks over her shoulder, and offers the closest thing she can to an honest apology.

"Happy Holidays, Hermione."

It's not so dark, and the pub's not so noisy, that Parvati can't see Hermione's fast blinks in the mirror, or hear the tremble of her voice under the all-business inflection.

"Happy Holidays, Parvati. See you next year."

.FIN.

* * *

For the TL's Judgement Day: Round One- Frenemies


End file.
